Page 94 of Break Points and Face Offs

“I’ve never seen someone get so turned on by a condom before,” he says with a smile.

I just grunt in response. I’m too far gone to explain it to him right now.

His eyes get glassy and he sighs as he drips lube over my cock and starts sliding his hand over me. My hips pump into his fist and we both pant while he jerks me off.

“Better stop doing that,” he murmurs before taking his hand off me. I let out a huff of complaint but he just smiles.

“Wouldn’t you rather finish …” he straddles my waist again and lines my cock up with his hole before sinking down, slowly, “… here?”

I hiss, grabbing his hips hard enough to leave bruises. Priestley bites his lip and keeps his eyes on my chest as he sinks down all the way, bottoming out with a satisfying slap.

He rolls his hips.

My eyes roll with them. “Fuck, so good.”

“Has anyone been better?” he asks.

When I look at him, I expect to find him wearing a cocky smirk. Instead, he’s watching me anxiously, waiting for a reply. I run my hands through his hair and pull him close enough to kiss. “No,” I tell him. “You’re the best.”

That seems to turn him on more than anything else I’ve ever done or said to him. He starts riding me like his life depends on it. All I can do is hold on and enjoy it.

He comes, pulsing and squeezing around my cock. I keep hold of his hips and fuck up into him while his cum pools in the dips of his abs.

“So fucking hot, Rosie.”

“Mm.” He looks calm, content as he rides out his orgasm, his eyelids heavy and his shoulders relaxed. I rub my hands up and down his arms while I finish filling the condom.

When he pulls off, I want to grab him and press him against me, but he gets up and disappears into the bathroom before I have the chance. He comes back with a towel to wipe off the drops of cum that landed on my abs.

“You’re just showing off with these,” he says, wiping in the crevices.

I grab his wrist and pull him closer for a kiss.

While Priestley’s napping, I throw my shoes on, take his key card so I can get back into the building, and head to the closest 7-Eleven to grab some snacks.

When he wakes up, I’m sitting on the coach, eating popcorn and watching highlights of all the hockey games that were on today.

I listen to him pad into the kitchen in his bare feet before stopping at the counter.

“What’s this?”

“It’s chocolate cake.”

“What for?”

“For eating.” I turn around and grin at him, but he’s too busy frowning into the counter. “That’s your piece. I already ate mine.”

“I don’t want it … thanks.”

I shrug, my heart sinking a bit. I know he wants the cake. He just won’t let himself have it.

“What are you watching?”

“Hockey highlights.”

I’m waiting for him to come and join me like he usually does when I watch hockey, but he’s hesitating over by the counter, still staring at that piece of chocolate cake. I keep my gaze on the TV, pretending to ignore him. When he finally pads over to the couch, he has half the piece of cake on a plate. I try to keep my smile in as he takes a seat beside me and starts tucking in, but it’s impossible. When I glance at him from the corner of my eye, he’s taking a bite and closing his eyes with a look close to the look he gets when he finally lets go in bed.

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